


Chemistry of a Car Crash

by Foophile



Category: Prison Break
Genre: Clothed Sex, M/M, Urgent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 09:26:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5962306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foophile/pseuds/Foophile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lincoln wasn’t the best of boyfriends. The plain truth of it was that he probably was categorically one of the worst. </p><p> Originally written in 2008.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chemistry of a Car Crash

Lincoln and Veronica’s screaming could be heard from outside the apartment Michael shared with his brother. Words like “ashamed” and “prick of a father” came through the walls loud and clear in his brother’s low timbre and while Michael would argue on any winter night that all of the walls were thin and poorly constructed, they weren’t that thin.

The high school sweethearts were having yet another blowout.

Michael sat tense and expectant on the dusty rug of the fifth floor hallway. Their next door neighbor had already left for the evening, thankfully at the beginning of the argument; a thin haired man in his fifties who gave Michael a sympathetic look that said he’d been there before. Seeing as the brothers occasionally received his misrouted subscription to Divorce Magazine, Michael thought the man probably had been.

Something within the apartment broke with a crash and Michael flinched, automatically turning another page of the notes he’d had yet to focus on. Inside, there was a second of prolonged silence as if the one who broke whatever it was had a moment of regret. Michael guessed that the dinner platter they’d bought for last Thanksgiving was history and that it met it’s demise at Veronica’s very capable hands. Then there was a murmur too low to make out – Lincoln’s voice – and right after the unmistakable sound of flesh sharply hitting flesh.

Michael closed his book. He counted the seconds of silence like he did when he was a child and playing hide and go seek with the other foster children and at five-one-hundred there was thunderous stomping and the dirty blue door of their apartment swung open with considerable force. Michael imagined the crack in the plaster from the door knob and sighed at the loss of their deposit.

Veronica had always been an expensive woman to date.

She didn’t say anything as she left, her dark hair swinging with her hips, shoulders back and chin wobbling with suppressed emotion. She didn’t even look back at Michael, who’d been host to so many fights between them that he could tell from her hurried gait that this time was different from all of the others.

This time maybe Veronica had convinced herself that, for the moment, she really wasn’t coming back.

At the thought, worry congealed into a tight ball in the pit of his stomach and Michael scrambled off of the floor to go and survey the emotional damage. The door had closed partially on its own and he tapped it open with his finger, his mouth going tight as he saw Lincoln standing in the glass littered living room shaking with anger.

“Of all the times,” Lincoln growled. He didn’t continue but Michael knew exactly what he meant.

Lincoln wasn’t the best of boyfriends. The plain truth of it was that he probably was categorically one of the worst. He didn’t call Veronica everyday and often ignored her phone calls when he was out with his boys at night. He flirted shamelessly with any woman with two tits and an ass whether Veronica was present or not. He’d even cheated several times, always when he was drunk or high, and always expected to be forgiven in the morning.

And then there was Michael –

Lincoln was a crappy boyfriend but he’d drop everything to attend to Michael. If Michael was hurt at school, he’d take the rest of the day off of work and take him to the hospital or treat him at home if they had no insurance and really needed the money to pay the rent. When Michael started dating, Lincoln bought him a cell phone and told him to call every three hours, no matter what, and Lincoln would pick up every time whether he was with his boys getting drunk or, in one memorable pick up, while he was having sex with Veronica.

Veronica acted as if she didn’t mind the double standard. She’d been friends with both brothers long before she’d dated Lincoln and she’d watched what they’d gone through to stay together. She’d said many times that she understood. But it was obvious now that with Michael going to college in the fall, she expected something to change. For Lincoln to 'cut the cord’ and focus on the few weeks she had in town during her law school breaks and not whether Michael was getting enough sleep during finals week or if he would need a car on campus.

Veronica expected Lincoln’s laser-like focus to finally turn in her direction and she didn’t understand when Lincoln continued to be the bad boyfriend. Not when she was so reluctant to name Michael as the problem and not when Michael was fully aware and unrepentant of his status.

No, the problem was Lincoln’s drinking and smoking and cheating – even when he’d promised her he would clean himself up. Even when he had and Michael could attest to his progress. Even when, this one time, Lincoln could say with all honesty that he hadn’t really done a damn thing wrong but be the same overprotective, ultra-impulsive brother he’s always been and planned an entire weekend out of town with Michael that he’d already promised (and forgotten) with Veronica.

It was bad, but in retrospect Michael could name dozens of worse things that his brother had done without an ounce of remorse. And, Michael thought examining the slump of Lincoln’s shoulders, that was the real problem.

Michael swallowed the penny’s worth of fear that Lincoln would explode on him and said simply, “You can only push people so far, Linc.”

Lincoln tipped his face heavenward, visibly calming himself as Michael closed the door behind him and dumped his school work on the couch. When Michael came near he could see where Veronica had hit him, the ball of his cheek a bright red and streaked with pale lines like she’d also tried to sink her fingers in. Like she wanted to take a part of him with her even as she left.

Michael licked his lips, his heart beating a little faster as the tension only thickened in the room. He could tell that Lincoln wasn’t as angry as before. Lincoln rubbed at his cheek as if he were wiping away a lipstick stain.

“What do you need-,”

“Shut up,” Lincoln interrupted, glancing at Michael as if he were solving a puzzle.

Michael’s body was already bracing eagerly for what he knew was coming as his brain split in two. One half felt guilty that he wasn’t trying to be supportive; deliberately driving yet another wedge into the soap opera that was Lincoln and Veronica.

But the other side argued that Veronica couldn’t understand that she never came first. No one could understand what he and Lincoln were just barely grasping.

Lincoln’s hard pull on Michael’s t-shirt spoke loud and clear but only to empty rooms after Veronica had left in a rage. Only then did Michael have the chance to experience the one thing Lincoln had yet to give him and the selfish, needy little brother in him welcomed that more than the shaky equilibrium he and Veronica shared with Lincoln.

When Lincoln was grabbing Michael around his thin waist as if he were still just a tiny boy instead of an eighteen-year-old new to manhood, Michael could wrap his arms around Lincoln’s neck and ignore the lingering traces of Veronica’s light perfume in the air, on Lincoln’s clothes. He could and did tilt his big brother’s head into a kiss that began as an affirmation and quickly devolved into the sucking, biting mess that Michael’s never seen his brother try with Veronica.

Veronica, Lincoln kissed with practiced softness. His strong hands were gentle where the calluses and crags telegraphed the opposite. Sometimes when Michael watched Lincoln handle Veronica’s petite body with the utmost care he almost cringed at the incongruence.

Lincoln’s hands were built to hold tightly and lead, never ever follow.

They pushed now, Lincoln’s rough sure hands, Michael stumbling in his wake, towards his bedroom. Michael was trying to shed his clothes but stopped with a single hard look from Lincoln.

He stuttered, “I-I thought you wanted-,”

Lincoln pushed Michael down on the unmade mess of his bed. “I do but not right now.” His eyes were dark despite the lamp light and Michael shivered at the stare, couldn’t look away. “Let’s get off right now, like this.”

Michael was already hard in his briefs and jeans, and felt a pang at how Lincoln’s words affected him. He nodded jerkily, his words stuck in his throat. Then Lincoln was kissing him again, down his neck and biting gently behind his ear. Their clothes were already body warm between them and Michael felt sweat surface under his arms and down his back.

He ran his hands over Lincoln’s rough cotton work shirt, fingertips seeking out the smooth pull of skin and muscle that he found only where the cloth had pulled from Lincoln’s waistband. Michael plunged his hand inside greedily, scratching at the dip of Lincoln’s spine but hindered by the cinch of his belt.

Lincoln’s thigh was wedged between his own, rubbing a slow rhythm that was sure to drive Michael mad before he even had the chance to come. Their clothes were in the way, Michael wanted to argue. He wanted to watch Lincoln strip the cloth from his body newly muscled from his construction work and touch the hard cock he felt searing a hole through both of their pants.

Lincoln brought him back into the moment with a rough suck to Michael’s nipple through his shirt.

“Lincoln!”

His brother gnawed at the fabric, getting it wet with his saliva and forcing the light blue material to show the darker skin underneath. Lincoln’s hands clenched Michael’s hips to stillness when he tried in vain to thrust into the heat of Lincoln’s body. He guided Michael’s efforts into a give and take that drove the younger man’s legs around Lincoln’s waist, pressing their cocks together through the layers.

They traded moans, Michael’s fingers tangling in Lincoln’s belt loops until his brother snatched them away and up over his head, held them there with a deep kiss. The position forced Michael to arch his torso and he gasped when Lincoln slipped a hand into his loose jeans.

“Yes,” Lincoln whispered. The wet of Michael’s briefs chaffed as his brother rubbed his cock and balls and Michael groaned in pleasureful agony. “This was what I wanted. To feel you come and watch you – just you. Your face, Michael, I never get to see your face when we do this and Veronica always-”

“Don’t,” Michael forced out between clenched teeth. The last thing he wanted think about was Veronica. She wasn’t allowed here. Not whenever they had the chance to do this.

Despite the lapse, Michael was still dangerously close to coming. Lincoln’s ministrations quickened, the flick of his thumb over the cloth covered head of Michael’s cock feeling like a jackhammer blow through his body. He tightened his legs around Lincoln’s body, aching for the touch of skin on skin and nearly choked when Lincoln wedged his other hand down the back of Michael’s pants, the calloused tip of his middle finger just barely rubbing the edge of Michael’s hole.

Michael clenched and came, his eyes closing on the satisfied stare of his brother. He felt silky wet spread over the face of his briefs, into the crease of his thigh. After what seemed like an eternity of emptying himself, he felt Lincoln’s hands retreat and opened his eyes to Lincoln kneeling over him. His pants were open and his hard thick cock out and in the jacking tunnel of his fist. Michael’s cock twitched with interest.

In mere moments Lincoln was groaning, spurting over Michael’s jeans and stomach where his shirt rode up. The damp seeped into the fabric and Michael didn’t think before rubbing it in, migrating to where Lincoln’s come stuck to his skin and spreading it lower into the wetness deposited in his own pants.

Lincoln lay down next to Michael, catching his breath. He held Michael’s eyes over the come covered fingers Michael extended between them - almost a dare – then with a blink he brought the hand to his lips and sucked them into his mouth.

It was everything Michael could do not to come once more.

When Lincoln was done and Michael’s fingers were clean of all traces of their spunk, he extended an arm behind Michael’s head and sighed into relaxation.

“She doesn’t understand,” Michael whispered, rolling a bit so that he could tuck into Lincoln’s side.

“No,” Lincoln replied. “She couldn’t.”

END


End file.
